I hadn’t spoken much, and I knew Ivy wanted to handle it by herself, but they were starting to get on my nerves. The disrespect shown to Ivy was too much for me to handle. I realized that if Ivy focused on someone’s thoughts, I could hear them, too, like we shared her power, so I knew what she was aiming for.
She wanted to break them, to make them sweat. The worst torture was psychological, and she was aiming for that. We brought several recording devices inside our clothes so that if someone slipped, it could be evidence against them.
Ivy did great, mentioning her mother but not disclosing much information about what she knew. I was waiting for what she had prepared to make them worry even more. And soon, he arrived. A knock on the door came, and everyone became anxious to know who it
